THAT AFTERNOON WINDBLOWN-
A
mountain came to my feet on
That
afternoon windblown.
People,
old-timers, elders say
Mountains
never move but
Only
wind blows;
But
never ever in my dream
I
saw mountain moving
And
touching my feet.
A
miracle or a dream never conceived.
I
vividly remember that
Puzzled
and astonished look of mine;
It
was writ large on the face
And
plump plumes turned purple,
Limbs
shivering in search of
That
old rhythm and beat
Carrying
with a deep and
Invincible
forest full of silt-sand.
Such
was the fury of that mountain
On
that afternoon, and
Everybody
had on their lips
One
and only one word to chant
Peace
!
My
Lord,
Peace!
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Poem# 4 |